Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Great shards of the Queen egg, it's Ccccccooooollllldddddd...." The small candidates stomped down the tunnel hallway, pausing every so often to squint at the darkness beyond the light of the glows. Why the Candidatemaster wanted to hold lessons away from the light of day...was he a night-demon or something? Not that his scary attitude added to those pondering thoughts.

Sighing, Dhiren made way into the dark classroom and plopped down in the front, closest to the teacher so he could see and hear better; yet he still cursed his small stature. Yet the lad was excited, despite his grumpy attitude. The rumors flying around the Weyr (some of them flew on the wings of Lizards and dragons) was the eggs were ready to hatch, possibly within the next one sevendays or so...

It almost made Dhiren bounce in his seat. Or...it would have, had the Masters' sharp voice not pinned the hyper boy down. Listening to the explanation, Dhiren bit his lip while pondering. He didn't want to leave, not with the possiblity of staying until Twenty-One turns of age. Besides, he wanted to learn as much as he could.

At the question, Dhiren shifted in his seat before speaking up. "Um....Showing politeness towards the Queen as we come in and line up...also, not to make any noise or do anything that could possibly distract the Hatchlings from Impressing?"

Mathyn sat the farthest he could from the gruff instructor, he stretched out his legs and leaned back a scowl across his face. This just seemed like repetition, like being an apprentice all over again, and he did not agree with that life style. With any other parents Mathyn might have been a laborer something close to a drudge, he had no desire to learn.

The challenge for Mathyn was making everything into a game, a game he was going to win. He reached into the depths of his minimal dragon and hatching knowledge to pull forth a true golden thought and came up with nothing. He came up with a relatively common response, he had to answer to win his own game.

"The colors of the eggs and size, do not reflect what color is in side, except for the queen."

It was not necessarily about hatching...but it was related, Mathyn straightened out cockily, like he had produced the solution to an unsolvable question.

Lanakirene wasn't particularly keen on lessons, but as she was currently trying to avoid more sunburn, she figured she might as well go down, just check and see if there was anything interesting and new to pick up. Four turns with the Candidatemaster had accustomed her somewhat to his gruffness, but she would never be totally comfortable with the man. Sitting cross-legged on a chair close enough to the wall of the room that she could lean comfortably against it when her legs were stretched out, she balanced precariously and idly scratched at the peeling skin on the back of her neck while she listened.

The first Candidate who spoke must be a weyrbrat Standing for the first time. Glancing over at him, she smiled slightly at his size and then turned her gaze to the other speakers in turn. Kella she recognized, but the boy who spoke after her, she wasn't entirely sure she had met. He looked...unimpressed with the situation, but his answer brought the slightest quirk of a smile to her face. A bit unrelated, though what he said was true.

The next boy's speech made her incline her head slightly, although she wasn't entirely sure if he was trying to joke about it or not. Deaths happened on the Sands. Frowning slightly, she tipped her head back against the wall. "Let your dragon come to you," she added simply, then closed her eyes.

Terisa cringed as she slipped into the lesson room, since the Candidate master was obviously already starting his lesson. She greatly hoped that he would either not notice her tardiness or not mind, since she was very much still getting used to the layout of the Weyr. How many times would she move to a new location and have to learn the tricky hallways all over again? And why, by Faranth's egg, would they hold the candidate lessons somewhere so out of the way and far from the candidates' barracks. How was she expected to find such a place in the few minutes before finishing her chores to the start of the lesson. Shaking these thoughts out of her head, the dark-haired girl quickly found a seat at the back of the room and lowered her eyes, listening, but not speaking. Glancing to her side, Terisa noticed a boy also sitting in the back of the room, but the answer he made didn't make much sense to her. Wasn't that more relevant to the Touching than the Hatching? By the Hatching it didn't really matter which egg you thought was what, since whatever dragonet found you was yours, there was no choice in the matter.... Figuring that it was more her fault for not understanding than that the boy had said anything incorrectly, Terisa sighed and looked to the front, avoiding eye contact with the instructor, but trying to show that she was paying attention.

The things that were already said by other candidates passed through Terisa's mind, and she acknowledged that those were good ideas. She knew that when she was on the sands all of these things would be going through her mind and she would try to remember all of them, but she felt like there was more that the Candidate master was looking for. What it was, she wasn't quite sure of, but her ears were attentive for the Master's voice, hoping that he would reveal this deeper truth soon.

A veritable troupe had come at once, though a closer look would reveal the crowd more a pair and one beside. The duo seemed to be having a bit of conversation, if a barely concealed spat could be considered such...Brother and sister, by the look of them, and quite in the thick of things. The single party broke from them, obviously eager to not be associated with their squabble, and ducked into the dank room to take a seat.

Laflan was eager, having missed any previous lessons. The touching too, he'd missed that. Figured the fishing season had lasted a bit longer than the norm, but he was here now, certainly. With eyes wide and fascinated, he perhaps looked the most interested, the happiest to be there, of the lot. All of this was new, none of it a repeat.

At the question his hand hesitated on the long desk, then rose. Once he knew he had the Candidate's attention, he spoke up. "Dragonets are born hungry, but you have to feed them carefully. Nothing too big, and not too much." That much he'd picked up from his own blue firelizard. Nogard had been a holy terror on his hatch day, and had nearly choked on a too-large piece before Laf'd been able to free the chunk. Several over-feedings and sour bellies later he'd gleaned the second fact of draconic-type feedings.

The sibling pair, meanwhile, had split. The girl, a short but spritely thing, had claimed a seat close to the front as was staring raptly at the man. Faranie licked her lips and glanced around at the others...She secretly would much rather be outdoors working on a tan or something like that, but this was important. Not that she'd learn anything new, of course. Her own answer to the Candidate master was short, and slightly smart. "When a hatchling impresses it will tell you its name, through mindspeak."

Across the room, near the back, the male half of the pair slouched a bit in his seat. He was interested, so very interested...But the rhyme and rote he knew by now, and the half of him that was more than a last-chance candidate had been up through the night, charting weather and stars and whatnot. Gar moved almost robotically, not bothering to sweep back the long dark hair that fell into his eyes. A hand snaked up into the air, paused, and dropped as he spoke. "The dragons will choose whom they choose...don't ever try to force an impression."

When lessons moved on each of the trio shifted a bit, more to take mental notes. Of the lot only Faranie considered smirking at the shaky writing of their instructor, but even she dared not with hatching so close. Laflan sent a mental note to Nogard, who was awake and off eating something as usual: No hatching, no hatching. With luck the blue would understand. As for Gar, he simply nodded and stifled a yawn. Shards, the Candidate master had seen him before every hatching from this back through his first, at the tender age of twelve. He knew Gar knew what to do by now.

Abhijanya shivered in the cold room, but hardly thought to complain. Who could? As the candidates sat here, they would learn what was needed of them at the Hatching--something that rather easily distracted you from a little chill. Janya listened intently as the old rider spoke, the gruff tones to his voice bringing to memory an old story, and an acute pang. The Candidate Master was just the sort of character old Casmir would have loved to play.

Another moment and the girl turned her attention back to the master as he voiced his question. She thought a long moment to search for an answer.. For the life of her, she couldn't think up too many things by way of Dragon Etiquette.